


Hunger

by Nath



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Orcs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-15
Updated: 2003-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-18 13:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nath/pseuds/Nath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unpleasant little vignette showing that what goes on in a standard bearer's mind may not always be all that lofty...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunger

"I'm hungry," one of the Orcs resting in the shade of the wheeled platform complained.

"Stop whining, Grulthâk. You can always sneak a bite out of him," another suggested, pointing at their charge.

"I heard that, Thrishnôk," a third Orc interrupted. "The Boss said not to touch him, and you'd be wise to keep your trap shut, if you don't wanna end up in the cooking pot yourself."

"I still think it's a waste of good meat. It's very well that the Boss wants to have his fun too, but he could have thought of his soldiers as well and stuck him in the pot afterwards with the others we caught."

"Nah, I'm not gonna argue with the Boss. I like my skin just fine where it is now. Anyway, this one's getting a bit ripe; I'd rather have something fresher."

"At least he's stopped dripping."

"Yeah, but the flies are just as bad. Hey, Shurglaz, what's the big deal with this guy anyway?" Grulthâk asked, pointing at the figure tied to a pole on the platform. "What's wrong with a normal banner?"

"Can't the Boss have a bit of fun too? Besides, it upsets _them_ when they see it, and he let _us_ at him as well, so I'm not complaining."

"That's just you uppity archers who got to play. And what's the fun in shooting'em when they're already dead? I'd like to see you come up against some of their lot when they're shooting back at you. Bet you won't be so high and mighty then."

"That's what you think, is it? Filthy maggot!" Shurglak snarled.

Just as he and Thrishnôk got up and went for their knives, a harsh horn call sounded across the encampment, halting their fight, while everywhere grumbling Orcs got up for another night's march in pursuit of their opponents.

"Leave it!" Grulthâk growled at the other two. "If we're slow getting this on the road, it'll be _all_ our hides on the line. Get lined up, and I'll wake Ufthirk and the others."

Grulthâk kicked at a huddled shape; getting no reaction, he pulled a ragged blanket from the Orc lying on the ground, and knelt down for a closer look.

"Hey! Old Ufthirk croaked from that arrow in his belly! Quick, gimme a hand carving him up, so we'll have something fresh to eat later. Pushing that bloody pole is hard work and I'm _still_ hungry."

 

**Author's Note:**

> 3rd place in the 'Orcs' category in the 2004 MEFA Awards.


End file.
